That's The Way
by TaraGeek
Summary: As John Winchester struggles to deal with the reality of his childrens lives, can Sam and Dee find affirmation at a certain bar in Nebraska? Harvelle's Roadhouse comes into thier lives far eariler than it otherwise might have. A "transfic" story set in 1997, featuring an MTF trans*girl!Dean. A prequal to my story "One Night At Easy Daze", a sequal to other stories from this 'verse.
1. Chapter 1

Dee had come out as trans, as female and the world hadn't ended. The Winchester nack for document forging had given her ready access to estrogen and testosterone blockers and it had taken a while but by the time she'd finally managed to drop out of high school, by the time she eeked out her G.E.D. It had become that much easier to register as Deanna instead of Dean.

With affirmation came a price, John barely looked her in the eyes anymore. Even when it was just the two of them sitting up, packing salt rounds at insane o'clock at night, the distance was only growing. It's not like he'd ever _been_ that much of a talker but now it barely happened at all. Occasionally though, Dee thought she caught him staring. Staring at her like she was about to burst into flames, like she was a riddle that he just couldn't solve, like he didn't know her at all.

In the past she'd always been on the same page as her Dad and she could _still_ see herself growing up to be just like him. "Daddy's girl" may have been right but apparently it meant less to John than "first born son", less than "good soldier". Something she most assuredly was.

Things inevitably came to a head during a job. It was a nasty one, the sight of an old prison full of angry ghosts woken up by a re development deal. It had taken too long to research and there were people in danger in the mean time. So while John trusted Sam to do his thing and find the grave of the mean bastard of a warden who'd started the whole thing, Dee followed her father like she always had. To save people who didn't know any better.

It was _not_ going well.

Very quickly running out of ammo, she felt like half a construction sight was sticking out of her left leg. Metal and dirt and blood tore through jeans and she felt worse with every step. Slowing down however, was not an option. Barley aiming anymore, she opened fire over her shoulder. The poor night guard who'd simply wound up in the wrong place at the wrong time stumbled and tripped, flinching at every blast as he struggled to keep up. Smacking a palm between his should blades Dee re doubled their pace.

"**Speed up old man!**" She yelled, her voice raged and half obscured by her own gunfire.

The guard, who must have easily been in his sixties, lost his footing, the effort of a chase that he'd never signed up for finally overwhelming him. By sheer force of will and a tight grip on his collar Dee hauled him up right and back to his feet.

"Can't keep..going..." He spat out breathlessly as they rounded a corner.

That meant shit to the spirit of Arthur Jackson, beaten to death by guards under the watchful eye of warden Taylor in 1964. Another chunk of masonry blasted their way, this time barley missing Dee's face. Metal and concrete shards ripped through her jacket and tore open gashes along her jaw. The guard let out a scream of terror and finally fell to the floor in a fetal huddle as Dee spat blood, the familiar metallic tang filling her mouth.

"_Son of a bitch._" She cursed through gritted teeth as she loaded her last two salt rounds and turned to face the monster.

She didn't often think about dying, despite the seeming inevitability of it. Despite how regularly it was only moments away. She didn't pause to regret or feel her life flash before her eyes as she blasted a hole in Arthur Jackson's spirit, only to watch it re form and scream on towards her, barley slowing down.

Inches from her face, the angry ghost blew apart again, blurring to the side as the thunder of her father's shotgun rang in her ears.

"DEAN GET DOWN!" John yelled, barrelling in to her, sweeping her to the floor and some how gathering up the night guard too. He let out two more blasts from his right hand as he dragged a bag of salt across the floor with his left.

Arthur Jackson's ghost slammed into an invisible wall, it's screams echoing through the half completed halls of the construction sight as Dee gathered her breath, winded by her father's life saving tackle. She barely had time to gather herself before a different kind of onslaught began.

"**What the hell do you think you were doing?!**" John demanded, face red, fist slamming in frustration against a convenient wall.

"That was sloppy and half assed! You should be dead! So should this guy!" He added, gesturing to the night guard.

Dee held his glare, she'd survived as narrowly as this far more times than she could remember. She'd used all her resources, her skill and yes all of her ammo but she was alive. It pissed her off but this was happening more and more lately. Her Dad was second guessing her decisions. On _and_ off the job, it was happening again and again. Any decision she made was automatically stupid or nieve, simply because it was _her_ decision. She was damed if she was going to take it, even if they were in the middle of a job and surrounded by monsters.

"_Well we're not dead!_" She spat back, whipping blood from her teeth with what remained of her jacket's sleave.

"I don't know if you noticed Dad but I actually saved this guy's ass perfectly well without your help!" Rising to her feet she balled the tattered remains of her jacket around her fist.

"I ran out of salt rounds because guess what !? There's kinda a lot of angry spirits in this place _okay_ and I may have been missing a few cuts and bruises if my _partner_ hadn't disappeared down a hallway half an hour ago in the middle of a fire fight!"

Favouring her uninjured right leg she limped toward the third story window across the hall and turned again to face John.

"You get the other guy?" She demanded curtly.

John slung his arm around the night guard, hauling him to his feet.

"Already dead." He replied, taking one more look over his shoulder at the screaming face of Arthur Jackson.

"Go team." Dee declared as she smashed her fist through the locked window.

Securing an extended length of fire hose that John passed her way, she tossed it out, watching it fall the relatively short distance to the alley bellow.

Helping her father and the terrified night guard out and down Dee slowly climbed to the ledge herself, wincing in pain and cursing at how long her left leg would inevitably take to heal. Looking down to the street then turning back to the spirit still screaming in her direction, she grinned and flipped off the ghost of Arthur Jackson, beginning her decent.

"_Yippee ki yay mother fucker._" She whispered bitterly under her breath.

It turned out that Sam barely needed the time he had to finally locate warden Taylor's body. Apparently without his father and sister he actually worked faster. After tending to a pissed off and uncooperative Dee, John dragged him out the same night to finish the whole thing. Still angry, Dee couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction at the thought of her father finishing the night saddled with Sammy's bitch face. As far as she was determined to stay concerned, that night, he _deserved_ two pissed off kids making his life hell.

A day later she was layed up in bed, the nasty gashes in her shoulder, face and more importantly her leg, washed, dressed and beginning, in earnest, to heal. She hadn't spoken to John since they got back to the motel, save for acknowledgements, delivered through pouts and gritted teeth that her bandages were fine and that yes she definitely didn't have a concussion. Her father's concern was maybe inevitable but it felt ironic given that she was still basically blaming _him_ for winding up alone in the middle of a fire fight.

Sam had seen injuries worse than this more than a few times in his life, despite his age. So it was nothing particularly new but this time he was sticking to her side like a puppy. Firmly positioned, not in the twin bed across the room but instead in a less than comfortable looking chair that he'd dragged next to her. Apparently both Winchester siblings were going to give their father the cold shoulder.

As Sammy sat at her side, inexplicably engrossed in school work as he often seemed to be on a Saturday morning, Dee flipped through channel after channel of unsatisfying T.V. She knew that in reality what happened had been both their faults. Both their faults for not listening to each other, for not trusting each other like they used to. The short hand that had once to come so easily between them broken, broken because of the elephant in the room...her.

It wasn't like John spent his time repeating a hundred different cliches that you might expect from an ex marine from Kansas. It wasn't like he'd spent the last couple of years screaming _no son of mine...! _or _f*gg#t_. The fact that she was trans, that she was a girl, just hung uncomfortably between them without any resolution other than it's reality. She really didn't know what he thought about it.

It was a strange contrast to his increasingly frequent conflicts with Sam. On that subject they both knew exactly where their father stood. Sam hated hunting, REALLY hated it and John was determined that it be the only thing that mattered. Sam would train, Sam would hunt and that was that. With her it was almost the opposite, sure she worked jobs with him and she honestly thought that she wasn't a half bad hunter, in fact she kinda loved it but John pulled away from her on the subject. Both he and Bobby seemed honestly confused at her insistence, her passion for the job. It had only gotten worse the more she'd physically changed. She didn't think that she was _so_ dramatically different to how she'd been two years ago, except that at the same time she _was. _If she really admitted it, the young woman she'd grown into wasn't what her Dad ever expected. Her appearance was androgynous mainly by virtue of the heavy jeans and the goodwill plaid she wore. They were just fine, practical for hunting but they were also the path of least resistance in a family that had never expected a daughter. Still, to look at her, outside as well as inside, she was clearly, definitively female. It made all the difference, her body was finally beginning to make sense but to John it was strange new territory that only served to separate them.

Pouts and pointedly narrow eyes were kept firmly in place when John returned to their room with bleach and dirty rags in hand. He'd spent the morning cleaning the mess that Dee's injuries had left in the car. Suddenly, the television was absolutely fascinating and Sammy's school books apparently needed to be scowled at. The Winchesters had to solve this, for the sake of the job as well as all their lives. Dee however, found herself absolutely unable, unwilling to be productive on the matter. She understood how and why things had gotten so bad but she was also angry. Angry at her father that they had, angry that apparently being who and what she was could be enough to fuck things up.

"Blood came out of the seats just fine." John declared, heading for the sink to scrub his hands.

Their room's small kitchen unit shook into life. Ageing cupboards faced with plastic and rusty fittings that barely clung to the wall anymore rattled and banged as hot water shuddered from the faucet. Matter of factly John cleaned bleach and his eldest child's blood from his hands then turned, letting out a sigh and looked over his unresponsive children.

"Sam." He called, to absolutely no response.

"**Sam**." He insisted, louder this time.

The fourteen year old's attention only focused harder on his school book. Dee was still pissed but she had to stifle a laugh at her brother's epic ability to sulk. She felt pride and gratitude too. Comforted that at the end of the day, even if there was nobody else, she and Sammy had each other's backs.

John shook his head and through flared nostrils and gritted teeth, he tried again.

"You will **listen** to me when I talk to you young man." He insisted, his voice growing increasingly stern, turning to Dee he briefly added.

"That goes for you too."

Sam's eyes flared and he raised them to meet his father's.

Refusing for the time being to rise to an argument, John's tone softened. He dug into his pocket and retrieved a dog eared twenty dollar bill.

"We need bread and milk." He announced, carefully.

"Sam, I'd like you to go get some please."

Stocking up on groceries was even rarer for John Winchester than emotional acknowledgements or hugs and they all knew it.

"_Really?_" Sam shot back incredulously.

"Yes, now get going." John insisted.

The sudden need for a healthier diet or well stocked cupboards was fooling no one. Before Dee could call her father on his bullshit, before she could spit out a stomach full of repressed venom in his direction, Sam beat her to it.

"I'm not leaving you alone with her." He declared, raising squarely in his chair, fingers gripping tightly to the edges of his school book.

Pouty, stubborn, bitch faced Sam was something to behold. Even in the middle of her own drama Dee couldn't help but notice that however much he hated the idea, those same qualities might make him one hell of a hunter. She couldn't help but feel guilty too. Sammy was her _little_ brother and she loved that he'd always have her back but it was still _her _job to take care of him. Not the other way around. If their father was going to make something of what happened, if the stalemate they'd been in since the previous night was going to be broken then she'd fight the battle herself. She certainly wasn't going to let her fourteen year old brother do it.

Turning her attention to Sam, she gave him a lop sided grin.

"It's okay Sammy." She assured.

"I got this."

Sam looked sceptical in return and narrowed his eyes, this time thoughtfully searching Dee's face.

"Go on, beat it." Dee insisted, grinning.

Sam stood up slowly, laying his school books on his own empty bed and grabbing his jacket. Passing John on the way out he pointedly took the money and turned back to Dee one final time before leaving.

"I'll be back soon." He announced, all precocious, earnest intent and an impressively furrowed brow.

As he turned to leave Dee yelled after him.

"Hey Sammy!"

Sam darted his head back around urgently and with enough worry for Dee to feel a pang of guilt.

"Yeah?" He asked.

"Bring back pie!" She called brightly through a smirk.

Sam rolled his eyes but smiled.

"Sure."

So, Dee and John were left, alone in the room, silently contemplating each other. Finally releasing some of the venom that she'd been bottling up, Dee sharply gestured in her father's direction, pointedly holding his stare.

"Well...!" She demanded, in what was probably a louder voice than she'd intended.

"**What** is it? You gonna tell me how sloppy I was or how _real _hunters don't complain..."

John only remained impassive, he slowly crossed the room, taking a chair and placing it at the foot of her bed. Sitting, he leant forward, firmly resting a palm on each knee.

He was doing the stoic thing. Between that and corporal Winchesters drill Sargent routine he kind of had a limited repertoire and Dee wasn't about to let him set the tone.

"How about some bullshit that starts with... _if you were really serious about hunting... _'cause that's kinda turning into a classic_._" She continued, daring him to take offence. Offence at _her_ tone, at her language, at anything that might make him show how he was _really_ feeling..

It wasn't going to work.

"Mind your language." Was his only reply. Accompanied by a cautionary raised finger, it was quick and firm. Almost instinct and it had absolutely nothing to do with what they had to talk about.

Dee's anger only flashed hotter and she let out a bitter laugh.

"Fuck!" She spat back at him, eyes locked in defiance.

"_fuckety, fuckety, fuckety, fuckety, fuck!_"

It was stupid, but it felt good to just throw bile in his face.

John didn't rise to it, in fact Dee could swear she saw the barest hint of a smirk begin to creep onto his lips as they again sat staring at each other.

"You finished?" He finally asked after a moment.

There was no way that she was going to give him the yes sir that he wanted, that he couldn't have possibly expected, so she held her ground.

"Not even close." She promised, daring him.

John took a long, slow breath and ran a hand over his face, brushing at the stubble on his chin thoughtfully.

"This isn't working." He finally admitted.

That was the first thing he'd actually said that Dee could agree with. She was still angry but it felt like progress.

"_Do ya think so?!_" She shot back, slumping against her pillows.

"Look Dean..." John began, then paused, Dee's sharp intake of breath and the twist of her jaw at the name stopping him in his tracks.

"Look," He began again.

"We have a problem... we're not trusting each other and that's dangerous."

What he'd said was true, it was more than obvious and it wasn't enough to let her guard down.

"That's not on me!" She warned.

"It's on both of us." John admitted.

It almost sounded like her father finally taking some of the blame but his qualification was just bullshit. As far as Dee was concerned _he_ was the one who was pulling back, he was the one who was freaking out because she was trans. All _she_ was doing was trying to hunt.

Almost in acknowledgement of what she was thinking John carried on talking.

"I don't understand the _girl_ thing. It's not going away and _this..." _He continued, gesturing between them.

"...is only getting worse."

"I'm gonna have a scar that agrees with you." She replied indignantly. Not that she really minded the scar, she had plenty of those, most of them were badges of honour, this one however, was a little different.

"...Right." John nodded, his eyes growing dark.

"That's the point. You could have died because we're not trusting each other. You're a good hunter..."

Dee briefly smiled but determined not to give ground, she quickly turned it into a defiant nod, punctuating her father's sentence.

"...but you're still a kid." He continued.

"You're learning, one way or another you're growing up and you need _someone_ you can trust. Someone you can talk to other than your fourteen year old brother."

John pointedly paused, then stood and made his way across the room. Stopping at the fridge he retrieved a beer and cracking it open began again.

"So...that's what you're gonna get." He took a slug of beer and looked back in her direction, his eyebrows knotting together in thought.

" When you're healed up you're gonna take a trip. I've got a couple of jobs Bobby's lined up and while I'm doing that, you're gonna go somewhere..."

He raised his bottle and released a tiered sigh, gesturing at nothing in particular.

"Might do you good... might help."

A week later, with her leg safely clear of infection they watched as John pulled away, back toward interstate 80. She stood with Sam in front of what might have been very generously called a bar. It was all corrugated iron and well worn wood, the kind of place that probably _wasn't_ on any state of Nebraska tourist map. There were a few beat up trucks gracing the dirt strip that led to it and the thump of music radiated from inside. The was a sign too, in dust speckled bulbs and neon it read, _Harvelle's Roadhouse_.


	2. Chapter 2

"Where the _hell_ did he send us!?" Sam complained, taking in their surroundings.

Sure, it was beat up and definitely the wrong side of the tracks but normally that would have been a comfort to Dee. Despite her little brother's objections or more honestly _because_ of them she'd have slapped him on the back and through an ironic grin told him, _grow a pair Sammy! _She'd have dragged him inside and just dared someone to take exception to their presence. Today it was different though, she was still pissed at her father's "solution" to their problems. Letting out a short annoyed breath, she slung her hold all over her shoulder and stepped forward, onto the building's less than sturdy porch.

"...Anywhere that _he's_ not." She shot back, glaring dead ahead.

The inside of _Harvelle's Roadhouse _matched the outside, it was all creaking hinges and the smell of beer. A fly buzzed passed them then met it's end in a flash of blue sparks and the few worn out drunk looking guys who were there briefly turned their attention Sam and

Dee's way but quickly found their drinks far more appealing. A woman with a bar tender's rag slung over her shoulder stepped out from behind the bar, heading in their direction. Surrounded by good old boys, hunters and drunks she looked like she wasn't about to take crap from anybody and if she ran _this_ place, Dee thought, then she'd get plenty.

"You must be John Winchester's kids." She declared in a confident drawl.

"Hey, I'm Ellen."

"Deanna..." Dee shot back, perfectly aware that she was too old for the teenaged sulk of an introduction she was giving. Tipping her head in her brother's direction she added.

"...this is Sam."

Ellen just smiled back ignoring Dee's attitude, her mouth creasing into a crooked grin. She ushered them through the bar and into the small living area crammed behind it.

"C'mon kids, lets get you settled." She continued.

It wasn't much, barely separated from the rest of the bar, sounds and smells easily wafting their way through. The space consisted of four walls, a small stove, a few miss matched pieces of furniture, including a rickety table folded to one side, a small T.V. and a more well appointed c.b radio. Sitting, curled up in a tiny plastic lawn chair was a girl who couldn't have been more than twelve. She was skinny with a long train of mid-blonde hair pulled into a pony tail and she had a tight grip on a book, _Southern Tales Of The Supernatural. _Dee knew the book to be largely, if not totally bullshit but she was reading it with a raw, intense, concentration that was very different from Sammy's.

"This is my daughter Jo." Ellen elaborated.

Jo looked up from her book with a confidence that matched her mother's but was never the less wary and nodded in greeting.

"Hey..." She acknowledged, looking them over with detached curiosity.

"We don't have much space..." Ellen admitted.

"...but while you're here, what we do have, you're welcome to."

It turned out that John had been friends with Ellen's husband Bill before he'd died. Although she avoided details on the subject Dee kinda thought that there might be more to the story. Apparently the Harvelles were in the business too and the Roadhouse was some sort of hunter's truck stop?

Honestly, Dee still couldn't quite swallow her anger at John. For everything that had gone down between them but for right now, more specifically, for dumping them on strangers because he couldn't or _wouldn't_ deal. She really wasn't sure what hanging out at the Roadhouse was meant to achieve, apart from time alone for him and as far as she was concerned it was cowardly and it was bullshit. It was also more than par for the course with their father and Dee really would have liked it if that _didn't_ bother her SO much.

It took a few days to learn the ins and outs of being there and new places had never been a problem before but Dee found herself not entirely comfortable with the more settled environment presented by the Roadhouse. Still, there was the bar and Hunters were hunters, they were always familiar, she knew what made them tick. What proved less familiar however, was the way they were reacting to her. She'd spent more time than either John or Sammy knew sneaking into bars, just for kicks or for time alone when she needed it and until recently it didn't tend to last long. She usually ended up out on her ass despite less than strict attention to underage drinking laws and a fake I.D that was pretty good if she said so herself. Until recently she'd always looked too young. _Now_ apparently she looked just old enough to attract all kinds of attention from skeevy guys who may have been hot stuff when it came to hunting Skinwalkers or laying ghosts to rest but weren't exactly appealing, attractive or creative in their attempts to get her attention. It was new and although it was anothermoment where she was _more_ than greatful that nobody saw her as a guy anymore, she had no idea how to handle people she _actually_ was attracted to. Let alone creepy old hunters that she wouldn't have touched with a cattle prod and who looked entirely too much like her Dad for comfort.

She was making her way through the Roadhouse's juke box, trying to play some Sabbath or Zeppelin and avoid yet more of the REO Speedwagon that seemed to inexplicably find it's way to being played, when she first started to soften her stance on being dumped there. She was fending off some 50 year old guy in a dirty 'huskers cap with whisky breath and she was honestly about a second away from just decking him when Ellen's voice rang through the bar.

"**Davis!** Will you leave the girl _be_ ya dirty old coot!"

Making her way toward them, she fixed a firm grasp on the guy's shoulder, pulling him bodily away from the juke box and from Dee. Un phased and neither deterred or bothered by the interruption he half turned his head in Ellen's direction. Keeping his eyes firmly planted on his original quarry, a smile peeled it's way onto his lips.

"Aww... c'mon Ellen! I was just chatting with the young lady!"

Quickly returning his full attention to Dee, he continued.

"Aint that right missy?"

Narrowing her eyes in frustration and about done with the whole thing, the _place_, the _guys_, _all of it,_ Dee turned from the juke box to face him.

"Well _chatting_ with someone born after World War II might be a nicer way to spend my night!" She shot back, squaring up to him.

"Hey... you don't have to be _rude_ darlin'!" He declared, beginning to close the distance between them.

Before he could complete his step, Ellen placed her palm squarely in the middle of his chest, halting his progress and positioning herself in front of Dee.

"I think you're about done for the night Davis." She insisted.

Throwing his arms wide in frustration, his mouth hung open with resentment.

"I'm customer like anybody else ain't I... ?" Face growing reder, he was getting more animated by the second.

Dee had kind of been tiered off this before and as always, she was more than ready to defend herself but another shit storm instigated at her presence was entirely more than she was ready to deal with. As she stood, stewing in her anger and resignation, moments away from just saying _screw it, _grabbing Sammy and hauling ass out of there John be damned, Ellen took the initiative. Turning Davis around she motioned firmly in the direction of the door.

"You're done for the night." She insisted again. This time with a calm determination that was peppered with just enough anger to be noticed by the entire bar as she marched him to the door.

He sputtered with indigence as she saw him out and Dee could just about hear his last few complaints as the door swung closed.

"Well." Ellen declared, making her way back.

Throwing an arm around Dee's shoulder she offered a sympathetic twist of her lips that wasn't quite a smile.

"What say you and I let these yahoos take care of themselves for a while huh?" She offered.

Despite herself Dee let out a laugh.

"Sure..." She nodded, reassurance beginning to creep into the edges of her brain, a tired smile beginning to creep onto her face.

Picking up a rag from the bar, Ellen slung it in the direction of a skinny guy with greying temples, in faded plaid who was perched on a stool toward the back nursing a beer.

"**Shawn!**"She called.

"Take care of things 'till closing ?"

He caught the rag easily and gave her a quick nod.

Harvelle's Roadhouse was also weird for the sheer amount of people who were there. Dee was used to it being just her, Sammy and John but although the only Harvelles in residence were Ellen and Jo, a seemingly endless amount of people came and went. There were plenty of douche bag guys giving her skeevy looks but there were hunters who were more concerned with jobs too. They seemed to rotate on a fairly regular basis but a few of them hung around. Dee couldn't imagine what it would have been like growing up in one place but she could tell that in the end, despite his initial reservations, _Sam_ was loving it there. No doubt his enjoyment stemmed mainly from the fact that Ellen seemed to deliberately avoid talking about jobs in his earshot. Without the constant spectre of the hunter that he was expected to become, her little brother was relaxing. Sam was actually starting to seem happy and that gave Dee a sense of relief that she'd never felt. It was like letting out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding or after her run in with the ghost of Arthur Jackson, the ache in her joints, the cuts and bruises slowly beginning to fade away.

Jo was another matter, from the little that she'd seen of her Dee kinda liked the girl. The tension that was beginning to simmer between mother and daughter was obvious though, it was almost the opposite of what was screwing Sam and John up. Jo was serious and she was fiercely into soaking up any little thing that had to do with hunting, anything that she could get away with. Weather it was memorising half accurate books like _Southern Tales Of The Supernatural _and sneaking into the bar to hear stories or training with Shawn out back, she was dedicated. For a twelve year old she wasn't a bad shot too and Dee could easily see the day that it all might become a real problem. It wasn't like Ellen seemed to hold any objection to hunting, heck she ran the bar and she was neck deep in intel for a dozen or more hunters but she held back from it with Jo. Dee figured that it probably had something to do with her husband and how he died. She could also see how that might be the very reason that Jo was SO set on the life.

Jo looked at Dee the same way she seemed to looked at everyone, with an assessing caution. They hadn't talked much and she honestly didn't know weather that was because Jo wasn't used to having other "kids" hanging around the place. At 18 Dee _really_ didn't consider herself a kid anymore, whatever her Dad thought. Or if this particular caution had more to do with her being trans. Before they'd arrived in Nebraska John had to have given some kind of explanation to Ellen. So she was sure that they knew and podunk little hunter's bar in nowheresville or not, nobody had said anything or made a big deal about it but they _had_ to wonder _right_?

When the two girls finally talked Dee had been alone, minding her own business. She'd been paying mild attention to a movie who's t.v station barely got reception and prepping supplies for some hunter as a favour to Ellen. She was actually relishing the task, it felt good to finally be trusted to do it without supervision again. Ellen seemed honestly interested in her opinion on the hand full of jobs that had cropped up since their arrival. She was more than ready to point out when Dee was being an idiot about something too but it felt like trust. Jo appeared from outside in a mess of sweaty running clothes and unruly hair. She took a moment to register that the room was already occupied but flopped into what seemed to be her favourite broken down old lawn chair anyway. Through gulps of water she gathered her breath and turned her attention to Dee.

"Who's that for?" She questioned, eyes darting to the equipment laid out before the older girl.

"Some hunter who's swinging by tonight." Dee replied casually.

Satisfied with a newly sharpened Bowie knife, she was suddenly conscious of Jo's proximity to items that her mother seemed intent on separating her from. Swapping the knife for several hip flasks full of holy water, she stuffed the whole collection into a duffle along with other assorted hunting necessaries.

"They're short of supplies." She proceeded to elaborate. Ellen might not have been pleased with Jo's interest in the job but there was no sense in pretending it didn't exist.

"Something about a nest of vamps and a busted up mustang I think. Your Mom's stuck out front fixing the ice machine, so she asked me to help."

Jo set her glass down far too sharply to be happy about it and let out a huff, her bottom lip curling into an impressive pout that could have almost put Sam to shame.

Dee couldn't help but stop what she was doing and laugh at the situation. She was sympathetic but she was also happy to be confronted with somebody else's parental problems for a change. Jo just looked pissed, pissed off and offended. So, putting the duffle aside Dee shook her head apologetically and turned with a crooked smile.

"Parents huh!" She offered.

"...Never seem to get it do they?"

Jo's glare didn't disappear, instead it morphed into indignation. Quick and determined, she turned in her chair to face Dee, eyes wide with annoyance.

"It's like she thinks I'm a little kid!" The twelve year old announced fiercely.

Again Dee laughed, this time trying her best stifle amusement but not quite succeeding.

"Says the grizzled old vet!" She replied.

With narrowing eyes Jo's hands balled into fists and she gave a short, annoyed little huff of disapproval.

"You're just like her." She spat back.

Suddenly washed over by guilt, Dee was momentarily lost for reply. Here was a kid, not _so _much younger or _so_ different to her. Sure there were a million reasons why hunting was dangerous but a kid like Jo, a kid who'd lost a parent to the job _knew_ that. She also had real reasons for wanting to see the job _done. _Dee knew what that was like and it didn't deserve to be ignored.

"Hey..." She offered, scuffing her chair in Jo's direction.

"If you want to hunt, then you'll learn. It doesn't matter what your Mom says."

Jo looked suspicious and not quite placated as Dee continued.

"You know what being a hunter means, you know what's out there and you can't just put that down right? Not after everything that's happened to you."

Jo nodded, serious and determined.

"Right." She carefully replied.

Dee knew that talking to Jo about this would piss Ellen off and she didn't want to do that, she honestly respected her. She also had a healthy dose of fear for her reaction but this was important and it felt too close to home not to say it.

"Screw 'em if they tell you you can't do it!" She declared.

"**Do it anyway.**"

Jo smiled defiantly at the idea and flopped back into her chair, vindicated. After a moment a thoughtful expression began to make it's way onto her face and she tilted her head, examining Dee intently.

"Your Dad give you shit about it? Since you ..um... y'know?"

She motioned up and down towards Dee. It was the first time since they'd arrived that anyone had explicitly asked about being trans. She really didn't have a plan for what to say, things were what they were and honestly Sammy had probably analysed the whole thing more that she ever would. She just knew what she felt and what she was _and_ how John had reacted. Someone new entering the conversation was almost un charted territory. Still, she liked Jo, they seemed to have a lot in common even with the age difference.

Chewing on her bottom lip and giving a slow half shrug, she decided to share.

"Yeah... kinda."

It was awkward, mostly in ways that she hadn't expected. Talking to Sam was one thing, talking to Bobby was another and talking to her father was it's own epic story but another girl, even if she was just a kid, that brought up things that Dee wasn't ready for. It brought up awkward feelings of inadequacy that she'd have much rather forced right back down. It also begged questions about _how_ to talk to other girls. She'd spent her whole life around guys and although she knew for sure she was female. She didn't know if it would be different, if there were things she needed to know or if she'd just make herself look like a big freak or worse yet a guy.

Jo's look remained quizzical but friendly and in absence of any further reply, she started to speak.

"A lot of the guys around the bar say that girls shouldn't be hunters, that we wouldn't be able to keep up..." Her voice was serious and filled with determination.

"...but there are a few female hunters that pass through. I think the guy's are just old fashioned."

Dee let out a rueful huff of acknowledgement.

"Well _my_ Dad's nothing if not old fashioned!" She offered, trying not to dump too much of her own bitterness on a kid who had her own battles to fight.

Jo carried on talking, it was almost as if a sudden enthusiasm had taken her over. She also seemed, at least as far as Dee could tell, to be completely un phased by the issue of being trans. It was kinda satisfying to just listened, to let the kid exorcise her own demons.

"_My_ Mom mostly just does research and intel for other hunters." Jo continued to explain, motioning to the papers and c.b radio in the corner.

"I _think_ that she used to go out on hunts though, _sometimes_ but now she absolutely won't."

Growing quiet again Jo began to play with the peeling red plastic of her chair, the train of explanation suddenly pausing as all of her attention focused on her faded arm rest.

"...I guess it's 'cause of my Dad."

Her moment of vulnerability passed as quickly as it had begun and her expression re focused into a determined stare.

"I **absolutely** think she _should_ go out though." She declared with an emphatic nod.

"Guys don't always get that it's _our_ fight just as much as theirs."

Dee smiled, she still felt awkward, self conscious about the growing bond she seemed to be developing with the Harvelle's but she also felt good about it. Raising from her seat and retrieving two cans of soda from the room's tiny fridge, she passed one to Jo, clinking them together.

"_Hell_ yeah." She replied.

Jo looked pleased with the declaration and opened her own can, taking a large gulp.

Their moment of solidarity was interrupted as the door from outside swung open and Sam stepped in. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder and he seemed flushed, excited. He was satisfied too, even cheery. Dee was happy to see it but it was still weird, a pretty big contrast to the cold stares that usually armed him against their father's plans. He smiled with a happy enthusiasm as he slung his back pack onto the table and began to retrieve it's contents.

"How was town Sammy?" Dee asked handing her soda over to quench her little brother's thirst.

The Roadhouse was basically in the middle of nowhere but nowhere still needed stores and supplies and something that you could call a town, right? That morning, pre occupied with a full list of jobs, Ellen had sent Shawn, a hunter who seemed to be a fairly regular fixture out on a stock run for the bar. Ever interested in the world outside of hunting Sam had tagged along.

"It was great!" He declared swiftly finishing the soda.

"Get this, there was a _library!_"

Half annoyed, half amused, Dee drew closer to Sam as he sat down at the table gleefully opening the books he'd retrieved moments earlier.

"_Son of a bitch._" She muttered to herself.

Resting a hand on his shoulder and with as much patience as she could muster, she peered at the source of his excitement. There were familiar titles and authors, books Sam read when ever they had the chance, Tolkien, C. S Lewis, his inexplicable enjoyment of fantasy, of the supernatural just as long as it was fiction on display. There were other books too, books that looked entirely too much like school work to Dee but never the less seemed to make him happy. He began to talk, pouring through page after page and explaining how the library in town was small but they had an excellent section on state history. Apparently hours of enjoyment could be gained from reading about the Burlington Missouri River Railroad and how in 1872 it joined the Union Pacific via a sub-branch at Kearney.

Dee shook her head and turned to Jo in amused apology. Jo was just staring, head quirked to one side as if Sam's recitation of Nebraska history was the strangest thing in the world. Her eyes met Dee's and she pointing in Sam's direction, mouthing silently.

"_Your brother's a nerd!"_

Dee stifled a chuckle and with an eyebrow raised, she nodded in knowing agreement.

The surroundings were different but not _so_ very different to what the Winchesters were used to. The strain was gone though, the dark cloud that seemed to hang over their heads through endless screaming matches or pointed silences had begun to disappear. Dee would never admit it to John but the Roadhouse was turning out to be just what she and Sammy needed.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam and Dee had been at Harvelle's Roadhouse for almost a week and things were going a lot better than Dee had expected, in fact they were going great. Sam was happy, a bar full of hunters not withstanding and the place offered a significant lack of bullshit for her too. She even found herself bonding with both Harvelle's, taken seriously for the first time as both a hunter and a girl. Her problems with John hadn't been solved but she was starting to realise that maybe there was something she could do about them... _maybe_.

She was shocked out of a previously uneventful night spent trying to teach Sammy and Jo how to _really_ play poker, as the bar's buzz of voices and music were interrupted from outside by a screech brakes too suddenly and too heavily applied. The noise penetrated the low rumble of Johnny Cash playing from the juke box and a few cautious heads turned in the direction of the door. In an urgent clatter of heavy, clumsy footsteps a large man almost fell through, he was bleeding and badly beaten. Stumbling towards the bar, his legs finally gave way just short of aid. He slammed hard into the wooden floor, sending up a hazy cloud of dust as Ellen reached him.

"_Tom, what in the name of hell's happened to you!_" She questioned urgently.

His face wrinkled in a bitter laugh, blood running from his teeth in streaks through his beard.

"..._**hell**_... _heh_..." He sputtered, circling the edge of consciousness as Ellen lifted him from the floor.

"_hel'srightt...ademon.._."

Busted up hunters weren't exactly an unusual sight at the Roadhouse. In the week that they'd been there Dee had listened with a satisfied grin as in no uncertain terms Ellen had made it clear a couple of times that she _wasn't_ someone's_ damn_ nurse! This was different though, the guy was busted up pretty badly. Ghosts or werewolves or any number of jobs that usually got handled just fine were one thing, _demons_ were another. Accompanied by grim caution from several of the hunters present, Ellen actually looked worried. Honestly, that kinda freaked Dee out all on it's own.

The beat up hunter, Tom Headly was his name_, _an ex marine like John, was laid up and attended too. It didn't look good, there were injuries that simply came with the job, there were more serious ones too, like the beating that Dee had taken from the ghost of Arthur Jackson but this was neither. Everything that Ellen knew how to do got done, along with the battle field medicine that a handful of the guys were familiar with but Tom had just lost SO much were mutterings of calling a _real_ Doctor, despite the heat that it might bring down and Dee listened on the periphery as Jo and Sam were instructed in no uncertain terms that they were to stay out of it.

She'd never actually dealt with a demon before and she couldn't even recall John discussing them much beyond the barest details that were necessary to recognise trouble when it appeared. The other hunters bristled at the situation, a few of them even pulled away, downing neat whiskys in one gulp and declaring that _this was too much_, that_ they were going to wind up dead at the hands of some creature but not __**that**__ way! _In the end only a handful were left to listen as Tom spat out the few details that he could manage through wavering consciousness.

He'd been tracking a spate of inexplicable deaths in suburban Omaha, they were all in one neighbourhood and he'd kinda expected a haunting. What he'd found instead was people at the tail end of ten year deals, wishes come true and then blood, death, hell and invisible creatures that only wanted to rip you to pieces. All of this before some sadistic cloud of black smoke jumping from body to body that he'd barely gotten away from.

Among the half dozen hunters who were left standing over Tom Headly's barely stabilised body or trying to fill the pit in their stomachs with alcohol, there was no consensus about what to do. Some of them loudly bemoaned Tom's apparently half assed handling of the situation and thought that it was better to leave well enough alone and live. Others seemed hell bent on posse'ing up and heading to Omaha to kick the thing back were it came from. The later didn't seem like too bad an idea to Dee, she wasn't stupid, she knew that demons were serious business but she also knew that there were things you could arm yourself with. She knew that it wasn't a completely impossible situation and while they did nothing it was still out there taking even more innocent lives. She'd chimed in and said as much only to be rebuffed, dismissively told _come back when you've taken your trainin' wheels off darlin'! _

They were still getting no further than keeping Tom alive and arguing back and forth

when a stoney faced Ellen returned from running Jo off for a second time. She leant against the door frame and studiously finished the remains of her beer, placing the empty bottle on a cabinet just inside. Glass clinked resonantly on wood, calling the room to order as hushed conversations ceased and attention turned in her direction.

"_Your all missin' the point._" She declared stepping into the room.

"Sure, it's dangerous. Heck it's _stupid _to try and take on this thing!"

Heads alternately nodded in approval and shook sharply in objection over a mummer of voices as un deterred, Ellen continued to speak.

"It's _true_ that it's still out there and more people are gonna die unless _someone_ does something to stop it but _that's_ not the point either."

Dee slowly began to realise what the point was, her thoughts immediately turned to Sammy and she felt a cold wave of fear that she wasn't ready to admit to. She also wasn't alone, realisation made it way around the room along with curses of _dammit_ and eyes that grew suddenly wide at the prospect of what they might be facing.

"The point..." Ellen continued.

"...is that we might not have to go looking for this thing. It already caught onto Tom and there's no guarantee that it won't keep on comin', not if it's got a taste for him, not if it's got the bit between it's teeth."

If the demon _was_ coming for them then they had to get ready, or get as ready as they could. Salt and iron and holy water as well as a few passages of nonsense in latin might help but the truth was that they had no way of knowing what was going to happen until it happened. So they pulled up the drawbridges at the bar, salt lines forming a perimeter and Sam and Jo sequestered in the basement, told to make damn sure they stayed put. Loaded weapons and standing guard out in the cold at 3am would probably do only slightly better than nothing but they took their turns anyway. All the while Ellen poured over old journals and demon lore, handing out scraps of paper with words that might exorcise the thing if they ever got it to stay still.

The other hunter's were sceptical at the idea of Dee taking her turn but Ellen insisted, with determination and a warning to _be careful_ she clarified that they needed all hands on deck. What continued to be a problem was Jo, she was meant to be safely tucked away but she simply refused to stay put. It made Dee glad for once that Sam was happy to keep clear of hunting. He was worried and she could see him tense up, offering aid and even opening a journal on exorcism lore, only to be told no way and bundled back to _relative_ safety. _Jo_ wouldn't be bundled back and for Ellen it was adding to an already impossible situation.

"_**Joanna Beth Harvelle**_ you get back down in that basement this instant!" She insisted for a third time through gritted teeth.

Dee was trying to mind her own business, to strap up her barely healed leg so that it would be as easy as possible to run and like everyone else present, she couldn't help but make out mother and daughter as raised voices easily radiated through flimsy doors and walls. It was true that the situation was too much for Jo to handle and it was really none of Dee's business anyway, this was Ellen's place, Ellen's kid and what she said went... period. Still, she

couldn't help it, even in the middle of the scary ass shit storm that they were stuck in, Jo had a point.

She was making it very loudly as Dee joined them in the bar, trying hard to pack away her own issues with parents and hunting. Focusing on the job at hand, ready to take her turn on watch she never the less continued to be confronted with Ellen and Jo's issues.

"_**No,**_ **this is MY home too!**" The twelve year old was yelling.

She was red in the face, an empty shotgun gripped tightly in hand as her mother repressed about ten tons of emotion. Frustration and fear held back tightly, Ellen pulled the weapon away and slammed it down onto the bar.

Dee hesitated in the silence as mother and daughter just stood, glaring at each other.

"_Get back down there._" Ellen spat out in low tones, finally breaking the deadlock but not the tension.

"**No.**" Jo spat back, only stepping forward, eyes locked on her mother in defiance.

Floorboards creaked as Dee adjusted her footing, starting to think about actually getting outside to try and stop the thing that might very well make this argument moot. Two pairs of eyes darted in her direction at the noise, removed for a second from the impasse. Jo's eyes, still full of energy, widened at the interruption as she stepped away from her mother, gesturing broadly in Dee's direction.

"**Dee, tell her!** Tell her that this is _MY_ fight too!" She declared, looking from potential ally to her mother and back again.

It was true but it was also true that Jo was just a kid and Dee knew what it was like to have someone you'd protect no matter what. She had sympathy but she found herself, for the first time in a while willing to be a good soldier, for the sake of loyalty but also for the sake of the job. With the most empathy that she could impart through a sharp twist of her head and half a smile, she tried to stay out of it.

"This is between you and your mom, kid." She offered.

It of course, wasn't what Jo wanted to hear. She simply gritted her teeth and gave a feral frown in Dee's direction, pulling up to her full hight in defiance and again looking back and forth between Dee and her mom.

"Well I'm doing it anyway." She announced, reaching for the bar to reclaim the shotgun.

Ellen stepped in her way, bodily blocking Jo from her destination. The stoic front that she'd held so tightly only redoubled.

"_**No.**_" She insisted, her voice for the first time beginning to crack.

Jo stepped away and Dee could see the shock on her face, hesitancy beginning to creep in at her mother's display of vulnerability.

Ellen gritted her teeth, drawing back her strength as she held Jo's stare.

"I will _**not **_loose someone I love! _Not again._" She declared, the memory of Jo's father suddenly powerfully present.

"I just won't do it."

Jo was just a kid and she didn't yet have her mother's maturity, her ability to deal with the things that had happened in their lives. A mess of emotion playing over her face, she never the less refused to look away.

"Neither will _**I**_." She admitted, fighting to keep her ground.

This was a moment between mother and daughter that honestly, Dee was kind of embarrassed to be a party to but there were more urgent problems at hand. Like Ellen, she was mindful that time was wasting and of the need to maintain the watch outside but she _got_ Jo too and because of that, she finally decided to step in anyway, even if it wasn't her place.

Moving quickly towards Jo and kneeling down in front of her, one hand placed carefully on her shoulder, she started to speak her piece.

"Look..." She began, focusing on Jo but briefly turning a wary eye to Ellen as well.

"...I get it, I've been there. One day you're _gonna _be a kick ass hunter, ok? You're gonna beat down a million evil things and stop what happened to you from ever happening again but not today."

Jo still looked determined, her face screwed into a tight knot. Dee barely wanted to know what Ellen's reaction was, she _really _didn't want to piss her off. She also really wanted her approval and affirming her twelve year old daughter's determination to be hunter probably wasn't on the top of a list of ways to do _that_.

She continued anyway.

"But you're gonna _train_ first, you're gonna learn _how _to do it."

There was a pause as Jo took in Dee's words, she wasn't giving in but the flicker in her expression betrayed her consideration of them. Ellen was silent too, a thoughtful twist played across her face as she looked down at Jo and Dee.

Before any of them could speak again, before there was any chance of a resolution to the situation, shot gun blasts rang from outside. They were accompanied by a low rumble and a chorus of snarls as a ragged and desperate voice bellowed in warning.

"_**Incoming!**_"

Dee leapt to her feet, the strain in her recovering left leg slowing her more than she wanted it to, more than felt safe. Ellen grabbed her gun and ammo from the bar, turning to Jo one final time, her eyes filled with fire as she gave a stern command, pointing to the basement.

"**Down**_**, NOW!**_"

Outside the scene was chaotic, two trucks had already been flipped over and Gary Sturges, a large bear of a man with an obnoxious handle bar moustache and a thick Texan accent was firing wildly into the night. Dee could see bodies of the other hunters littered everywhere, all of them bleeding and absolutely no way to know if they were dead or alive. In the middle of it all there was what appeared to be a man, he looked about thirty five or forty with a pot belly that strained the neatly pressed post office uniform he wore. He was smiling as he held Shawn by the throat and Dee could clearly make out his eyes, they flooded black as he turned his attention their way.

"Hello ladies!" He greeted brightly, disposing of Shawn, throwing his limp body to the ground.

"**Cover.**" Ellen commanded. Although Dee wasn't sure what good it would do as they took refuge behind the second overturned truck.

"Cowering in defence?" The demon questioned, releasing a throaty chuckle.

"I DO enjoy hunters! You're always more _bark_ than _bite_...aren't you."

Strolling in their direction as if he didn't have a care in the world, his smile slowly began to turn into a snarl.

"And after all, _dogs_ do need feeding...don't they? It's hard to resist an _easy meal_."

What had been muffled from inside was deafening at first hand as the chorus of growls surrounded them. Dee could feel hot breath on the side of her face as their cover flew away, the truck wrapping it's self around a nearby tree. She fired towards the noise, scrambling to regain cover as Ellen dragged her to her feet, releasing a flask full of holly water in the demons's direction. The liquid hit it's mark and the creature's face erupted in a hiss of steam and blisters. It was all the distraction that they needed to reach Gary and the cover of the first truck. Gathered together all three of them opened fire, knocking the demon back, slowing it's progress as it jerked with every bullet that reached home. Through eyes that were rapidly healing it held Ellen's stare and once again, smiled.

Jerking back, head lifted toward the sky, body twisting for a final time as bullets tore through it, black smoke suddenly erupted from the figure's mouth. It billowed angrily up into the air, swirling and then turning in the direction of the truck. Faster than any of them could move, faster than the smoke it's self could be attacked, trapped or repelled with iron, it reached them. Forcing Gary to the ground it piled inside him and he looked up with eyes that weren't his own. Knocking Dee's gun from her hand and turning to Ellen he hauled her from the ground, a crushing grip around her throat.

"**Bitch.**" The demon spat out in Gary's voice.

"**That,** hurt." It growled, an angry finger extended toward the burnt and bleeding body it had arrived in.

Ellen struggled against the grip but even without a demon controlling it Gary's body dwarfed her own. As consciousness began to fade from her eyes, she reached with her last gasp of awareness to the back of her belt, retrieving a revolver. She emptied two rounds quickly but clumsily into Gary's chest, barely causing the demon to flinch.

Forgotten for a short moment, Dee drew her remaining weapons, a knife in one hand, a flask of holy water in the other. She lunged at the demon, plunging the knife hilt deep into Gary's neck and flinging the holy water, watching it sizzle and burn.

The demon looked squarely at Dee for the first time, keeping a firm grip around Ellen's throat but re focusing it's attention on her.

"_Well..._" It drawled in Gary's rumbling voice, distorted and twisted by Dee's knife and the flow of blood it had unleashed.

"Aren't _you_... _**special.**_"

Gary's blood pooled at the corners of his mouth, running in thick streams through his moustache and down his chin as the demon drew a smile. Twisting it's head to one side and giving her a thoughtful focus, it stepped closer.

"**We** could have all kinds of _fun_... _**couldn't we?**_"

Dee readied herself for whatever might come next, hot wet breath and low snarls at her back, the demon itself at her front. It may have been hopeless and over far too quickly but she was still gonna fight.

With the demon only inches away, her attention was suddenly snapped out of focus by the sound of loud yelps from behind. Dirt flew away in every direction as invisible creatures scattered. What she saw when she looked up terrified her more than anything had yet.

Standing, alone against the back drop of bodies and blood stained ground was Jo. In her skinny arms she hefted a shot gun, aiming it directly at the demon's head. Newly abandoned at her feet there was an empty flask of holy water, the last few drops darkening the soil around it's cap. A few inches away from that, laying in the dirt, there was an iron rod, discarded at a clumsy angle behind her at a moments notice.

"**Come get me.**" Jo declared with dark eyes focused squarely on the demon.

The Demon simply smiled and turned to Ellen, her limp, unconscious body dangling awkwardly from it's right fist.

"Aww..." The creature began.

"It's a pity you're gonna miss **this**... ain't it mom?"

Lunging for the demon in a desperate attempt to at least buy Jo the time to get away, Dee grabbed her knife, pulling it from Gary's neck in a quick, messy fountain of blood spatter. Before she could do anything else, before she could she could connect with a fist or plunge the knife back in, she found herself flung away. Barely able to protect her face, let alone avoid injury, she smashed head first into the Roadhouse's porch. Dazed but still conscious she shook herself off, dragging her body out of the dirt as quickly as it would let her.

What she saw when she looked up was Jo sprinting away toward Shawn's old F 150. What she made out through the haze of her temporarily blurred vision as Jo reached the truck,

she'd have prayed to anything that would listen not to have seen.

Still relaxed, the demon only strolled slowly after Jo. She was standing on the back of the vehicle, fists wound tightly around her gun, _accompanied by Sam_. They were both staring the creature down with a raw concentration that spurred Dee to drag her ass out of the dirt faster, desperate to stop what was about to happen.

As the demon finally reached the truck, Sam and Jo were still standing firmly fixed in place. Dee was barely conscious through effort to drag herself toward them but she saw the creature stop, briefly turning back to offer her a warm smile. As it placed a hand on the vehicle and climbed aboard beginning to offer a hungry greeting, Jo's eyes suddenly went wide.

"**Sam, now!**" She yelled as both kids vaulted off.

Sam pulled a small note book from his jacket pocket and Jo joined him as they began to read from it's pages. In that moment the demon drew back and it looked to the surface beneath it's feet. Beginning to flail wildly, Gary's body contorted in rage, unable to move from the spot.

As Sam and Jo continued to read a stream of words that Dee was pretty sure were Latin the demon jerked and fought, Gary's face now unrecognisable in fury. Letting out an inhuman scream that grew into a whale of terror it flung his gaze skyward, black smoke flooding from his mouth, pooling above him in the air. With a force that shock the ground, shattering glass in the truck's windows and the Roadhouse alike, knocking Dee back, the cloud exploded into nothing.

For a moment everything was still, the night's cold bit at Dee's face, dust and dirt from the ground suddenly stinging against the fresh cuts and grazes that covered her hands. Then Gary's body slumped, falling lifelessly to the truck bead and Dee forced herself up right once again, spurring herself in her brother's direction.

"**Sammy!**" She called out, only for both kids to come running toward her. Still dizzy she almost lost her footing as they slammed into her, one at each side supporting her weight.

"Are you OK?" Sam demanded, wide eyed at her injuries and gripping slightly too tight for comfort.

"What, **this**?" She replied with a smirk.

" It's nothin'. Had worse shaving my legs!"

It was true that her new injuries were nothing serious although her head was pounding worse than a broken crankshaft and her leg was gonna take even longer to completely heal. She wasn't going to let them _know_ that though and honestly with Sammy and Jo safe, she was more concerned about the other hunters. They turned back to the Roadhouse and she could see the same thought dawn on Jo.

"**Mom!**" Jo declared with sudden realisation, leaving Dee's side and sprinting toward where Ellen lay, slumped in the dirt.

Picking up pace as best she could Dee followed, her arm still slung around Sam for was a tangle of limbs in the shadow of the first truck, a raw ring of fresh bruises covered her throat and Jo knelt before her, gently lifting her mother out of the dirt. With equal parts care and desperation she shook Ellen, summoning her back to consciousness in a quiet, wary voice.

"_Mom?_" She tried again, her voice barley more than a whisper.

Dee was relieved to see the shallow rise and fall of Ellen's breathing, but she felt a twist in her gut at the sight of her still unconscious form.

Jo tried once again, shaking harder.

"Mom?"

Ellen's face twitched and drew into a pained frown as her eyes blinked open and focused on her daughter.

"_**Jo**__? ...What the hell're you doin' out here?_" She slurred.

Her concentration was still returning as she began to sit up, drawing a hand to her head. After the second it took to gather herself together, her attention sharpened, grip tightening around Jo in urgent concern.

"_**The demon?**_" She questioned, searching the sight.

"Gone." Dee quickly assured.

"We got it...or more **accurately**, _they did._"

Heavy hits had been taken, along with the lives of several of the hunters who'd stayed and the

grim task of tending to injuries and clearing bodies took the rest of the night. Properly disposing of the remains, let alone mourning dead friends would have to wait until at least the next day.

Ellen was quiet on the subject of just how mad she was that Jo had gotten herself involved regardless of being told not to. It seemed to Dee that _for now_ she was probably just greatful that her daughter had survived. Dee shared some of the same relief about Sammy but she felt a swell of pride at what he'd done too, _not that she was going push the point too much. _She just gently punched him in the arm, telling him with a smirk.

"Good job Sammy."

When he drew a vaguely thoughtful pout in response to praise about hunting, she just ruffled the mop he liked to call his hair and let it go. Still, there was something about the two of them hunting together that always felt right, whatever Sam thought. She even listened patiently the next day when he explained how between what he'd read in Pastor Jim's books, Bobby's books and now Ellen's he'd realised he _knew_ the translations necessary to make a "_Devil's Trap" _and keep the demon in one place. How _Jo_ had insisted that they couldn't just leave it, that they had to do something and how he'd agreed.

Over the next few days windows were fixed, the wrecks of two permanently ruined trucks were disposed of and bodies were salted and burned. Shawn along with Tom had survived,although barley and it was going to take time for him to properly heal. Thankfully Gary and the other's who died didn't _have _any real family, just a few guy's who turned up to make sure they got sent on their way. The body of the poor bastard that the demon had ridden in on was another matter. Lacking any real I.D other than his post office uniform, they salted and burnt him for good measure too. If any one came looking there would be nothing left and nothing they could say in any case but at the end of the day, _sometimes..._ that was hunting.

The whole experience, all the time spent at the Roadhouse but what happened with the demon in particular, had been perversely reassuring to Dee. After so much time spent as a "_problem" _that John treated as the most delicate thing in the world or simply refused to deal with, living a life, _her own life, _given the time and the trust to do it was incredible. She

_wasn't _about to give that up, she wasn't ready to just bail on her Dad either, not _yet _at least but she felt good. For her own sake and for Sammy's she was determined that things _couldn't_ go back to what they's been once John turned up to collect them.

They had another few days before that happened, days she spent with Ellen doing intel and back up for a dozen different hunters who passed through, _some of them even women. _Days spent recounting endless hunting stories to Jo when her Mom was out of earshot and days spent humouring Sam over a thousand different things that seemed to make him happy but bored her to tears. There were nights filled with skeevy guys too, she got better at fending them off but she also got more annoyed, more _pissed _at them every time. It turned out she wasn't a bad bartender either, under age or not and when they weren't being creepy, just hanging, talking and laughing with a million different customers was actually kinda fun!

On a lazy Sunday afternoon she was sitting, bag packed on the front porch waiting for John to arrive. In the end she was kinda tense about it, _not afraid_, just determined to do everything she'd intended. It turned out that Ellen was more than aware of her brooding and she appeared with a determined smile and can of soda offered Dee's way.

"Don't let him act like he knows everything..._don't let him get away with it._" She declared opening her own beer.

Dee laughed and let out a breath, turning Ellen's way.

"I promise." She chuckled.

Bonding with the Harvelles had been a strange experience. It had been one she hadn't thought she needed but feeling that much more able to deal with the bullshit in her own family was due in no small part to Ellen and Jo. It was strange too because the strain over hunting that existed between mother and daughter had barely gone away, Jo's epic save with the demon be damed. Ellen had been careful about it, avoiding out right anger at Jo's insubordination but Dee could see the doubt playing in her mind. She wanted her daughter to live the kind of long and happy life that rarely came with hunting and Dee could _hardly_ disagree. It was kind of embarrassing but she honestly thought that Ellen was awesome, she could be stubborn and scary too and that only made Dee want to be like her more. It was the first time she'd really had a female role model, the first time she'd had _any_ kind of role model other than her Dad, or maybe Bobby. Being emotionally articulate was never going to her thing but still, she wanted Ellen to know that she was greatful.

"Thanks." She finally admitted in earnest, looking off to the horizon and taking a drink.

"My pleasure." Ellen replied with a confident nod.

"It's been great to have you, _both of you..."_

She paused for a moment before adding.

"_...Jo_ appreciated it too."

Dee smiled and nodded as Ellen's face quirked in thought, joining her in contemplation. They were shaken out of their moment by a heavy rumble drawing up the track, a cloud of dust that grew closer and parted to reveal a familiar vehicle.

"**Sammy!**" Dee called back into the Roadhouse, standing and reaching for her duffle.

Before Sam appeared in the doorway she turned to Ellen a final time.

"Thanks again Ellen." She offered.

Ellen stepped forward drawing her into a tight hug then pulled back with a smile and a reply of.

"Anytime."

Dee was stepping off the porch and about to call for Sam again when she paused, turning back to Ellen with a furrowed brow.

"Do somethin' for me?" She asked.

"Sure." Ellen nodded, confidant and serious.

Dee drew a thoughtful breath considering what she had to say and stepped back toward the building.

"_Listen to Jo_, I know she's just a kid and you need to keep her safe but hunting might be something she _has_ to do."

Ellen's expression remained serious, then with a quick twist of her head she squarely met

Dee's gaze and replied.

"If you promise to _call_ when you need **anything**."

Dee agreed.


End file.
